


Characters Bold, Complex, And Shady Will Write Their Memoirs Across My Heart

by Queenspuppet



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dumb Drunk Conversations, F/M, Med Bay Meet Cutes, Post-Break Up, Sleep talking, Strip Poker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-29 12:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6374431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenspuppet/pseuds/Queenspuppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompts from the ask box.</p><p>Title from The Nun's Litany by The Magnetic Fields</p><p>I want to be a tattooed lady<br/>Dedicated as I am to art<br/>Characters bold, complex and shady<br/>Will write their memoirs across my heart</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tear Drops and Moonshine - Loki/Darcy

from user dixiedolittle: Tasertricks - things you said when I was crying

Thank you dear heart for the prompt! Hope you like it. <3 Obviously, it went in it's own direction. 

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

Darcy kicked shut the front door to the ‘cottage’ house she shared on base with Jane and the Asgard Problems and gave herself a moment for a deep breath. She had survived her family, once again. Twelve hours - a full day, round trip - of driving between the New York adirondacks and the West Virginia county that could boast the largest number of towns with populations below one thousand. All for a weekend of cousins on four wheelers, women sequestered in kitchens speculating on her unmarried status, and uncles taking bets on her bra size. It had to be done once a year. A Lewis family reunion came before all other holidays, bank or otherwise, and the exposure to her entire family was a good reminder of why she stayed away. Now it was over and she could spend the next 358 days, give or take the juggling of what date would work best around the hunting seasons, in recovery.

Her bags were pinching at her arms, the straps digging deep lines into her shoulders, and she could smell onions and garlic simmering from the kitchen so she hobbled her way through the entry, her spoils of war clanking dangerously at her hips. She wasn’t sure who she was expecting to find in the kitchen, it was generally her domain within the house - a fact which she resented quietly after years of yelling at her mother she’d never be the woman strapped to the stove. Jane was marginally talented with a wok, and excellent at using the toaster. Thor could be trusted with the coffee pot and was surprisingly sporting when it came to doing the dishes after Darcy had gone on strike.

Maybe Steve had swung by to surprise her? He was just considerate enough to imagine it.

Darcy squatted, quietly shrugging off her baggage in the hallway before peering around the wall to peek into the kitchen.

It was the least likely option.

Loki leaned over the stove, wooden spoon nudging at the steaming contents of the skillet below, eyes streaming tears down his cheeks. There was a pop from the skillet and then a hiss from Loki as he snatched back his hand holding the spoon, and inspected the oil spit.

“You’re crying,” Darcy said from the doorway.

Loki’s head shot up, arms falling to his sides and lock of hair damp from the steam fell across his face.

“You’ve arrived early,” he said stiffly, eyes still wincing.

“I snuck out of my mom’s house before anyone was awake. Wanted to get to back.”

“You missed us,” he said, smug but almost teasing, as if he expected her to contradict him.

“I did.”

His lips parted for a moment before he grimaced and slammed his eyes shut again. “Did I purchase a poisonous breed of these vegetables?” he growled, rubbing at his eyes. “They looked to be the usual kind.”

Darcy had to press her mouth shut tight to resist laughing. Loki was generally unobtrusive to the point of being nearly invisible within the house. He was quiet, sometimes sullen and other times charmingly dry, but always polite when passing through the kitchen to serve himself some of whatever Darcy had prepared. Still, Darcy didn’t think he’d ever so much as passed her something, let alone paid attention to what kind of onions she cooked with.

“Their normal,” Darcy said, curving around the island to take a whiff. There were tomatoes and capers out on the counter, along with noodles, and some kind of expensive cheese wrapped in plastic that Darcy liked to buy for special occasions - or when Thor wasn’t home to eat it all in one sitting.

“A lot of people cry when cooking with onions,” Darcy explained. “Especially people who rub the juice in their eyes.”

“I’m not crying,” Loki protested, lips pursed in what Darcy would not call a pout. At least not to his face. “My eyes are simply…”

“Leaking?” she suggested. The not-pout became more pronounced so Darcy let it go and started dicing the tomatoes. “I didn’t know you cooked. What’s the occasion?”

Loki’s brow furrowed as he watched her. “I assumed you would be… fatigued after your travels.”

Darcy startled and had to pull her fingers away suddenly, before she cut herself. Loki was standing very stiffly at her side, glaring at the onions again, still tearing up. Maybe Asgardians were extra sensitive to onions?

“That was very thoughtful of you,” she said slowly, feeling like she was trying to approach a stray cat in the mountains, half-expecting to get scratched. “Go rinse your eyes out, I’ll keep things from burning.”

Loki huffed and turned away to the sink. Darcy could hear him splashing water over his face and the rustle of a towel over his face.

“I appreciate what you do here,” he said finally, their backs turned to each other.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. She set down the knife and started edging out of the kitchen. “Add the tomatoes and the onions should stop irritating you.”

From the hall Darcy could hear the splash of Loki following her instructions, and the following soft sigh, barely released. When she returned to the kitchen, mason jar splashing with amber liquid in hand, his face was open, almost relieved. She pulled two short cups out of the cupboard and set them down on the counter, spilling out portions for them both.

Loki’s nose wrinkled as he whiffed at the glass she passed him.

“Moonshine,” she said. “Best thing to come out of West Virginia…aside from me of course.”

Loki’s lips quirked for a second and then settled. “Of course,” he said, dry as the desert. He watched her take a healthy sip and followed suit. She pretended not to notice as he buried a cough. But he took another swig and seemed pleasantly surprised to enjoy it.

“Don’t tell Thor about it and I promise to keep sharing,” Darcy said. “I brought enough to back to last us awhile.”

He might have strained a muscle with how hard he fought the resulting smile. “Very well.”

“I was going to go shower, but do you want help with dinner?”

He shook his head and made Darcy’s stomach flip with the gentleness of his expression. “Go rest, I can manage _pasta_ at the very least.”

“Don’t think I’ll forget that you can cook, now,” Darcy warned, finishing off her glass and feeling the liquor buzz through her veins.

“By all means, Darcy, take advantage of me,” Loki said in a tone that was near to the warmth blooming under her skin, all while working away at the stove.

Darcy studied the back of him as she rinsed the cup, the long lines of his body, the tense energy that simmered inside of temporarily relaxed muscles. He might have been joking with her, but she was seriously considering taking him up on that offer in the future.


	2. Sleep Confessor - Bucky/Darcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> awkwardnormalcy asked: What about Wintershock, things you say in your sleep? I have a weird fascination with sleep talking /confessions in fics @_@
> 
> It's little and fluffy, hope you enjoy!

“Hey, honey,” the voice whispered and a handful of muffled snickers followed before another hush. “Darcy, honey, tell us who your favorite is.”

Bucky’d been on his way to Tony for a check-up on the temperature control in his cybernetic. He paused and backed up a few steps in the hallway to peer in to the science wing’s break room. Darcy Lewis lay curled on the sofa, hair fluffed up around her head in odd directions and one foot stuffed between the cushions, while a handful of male lab techs hovered around her. They were nudging each other and hiding their laughter and Bucky was about to run through their names in his head so he could bark them out and send them skittering back to their work stations.

And then the woman couch mumbled out, “Hmmmmm…Bucky. James.”

At least three of the techs frowned, looking offended, including the one who sat at Darcy’s feet and seemed to be leading the pack.

With a grimace he asked, “Yeah? You think that creepy arm of his is sexy?”

More snickers.

Bucky waited in the hallway, unseen.

Darcy shifted and the room held it’s breath as she pursed her lips and then frowned. “S’not creep. S’pretty. _He’s_ pretty.”

He found the corners of his mouth twitching as the men gathered in the room huffed and grumbled.

“Bet you want to see if it can-” The tech on the couch - _David Gabas_ , Tony’s think tank team - was smirking but his eyes were narrowed meanly and his hand was reaching to Darcy’s legs.

“Get the hell out of here.” Bucky was in the room, right behind them, before he realized. Definitely before the other men realized, given the way they jumped and stumbled back. Gabas stood, suddenly pale like he’d left all the blood in his face four feet behind him on the couch, and kept his head down as he edged behind his cronies on their jerky path to the doorway.

“Don’t let me find you in this situation again,” Bucky growled, softly, so as to not wake her. “Never mind the rest of the Avengers.”

He couldn’t think of a single one that wouldn’t hesitate to show them their own assholes for this. Gabas would go, though. No second chances.

Darcy shifted on the couch as the room emptied, rolling her face away from him to nuzzle it against the back cushion. Bucky waited a breath but she was still breathing deep and even. Thor mentioned that Jane had been working nearly non-stop in the past couple days and the same must have gone for Darcy. He didn’t want to wake her, and he wasn’t sure moving her wouldn’t result in exactly that. But he wasn’t going to leave her here, even if he was certain none of those little shits would be coming back for seconds.

He grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the table a few feet away from the couch. If someone wanted to come in and ask him what an Avenger was doing in the science wing break room he could tell them where to keep their questions.

Darcy shifted again, humming softly in a little note that seemed to ring around his chest and squeeze gently.

“Bucky…” she breathed.

He watched her, waiting, but she stayed sleeping.

“…’S good man,” she sighed out.

Bucky sipped at his coffee and wondered about what kinds of places Darcy Lewis might like to go on a first date.


	3. Can't be your hero - Steve/Darcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dixiedolittle - Another things you said prompt: Darcy/Steve- things you said after it was over
> 
> Ironically, this was an absolute joy to write. Thank you!

Steve reached out to steady her, watching her limp unevenly through ruble, and winced as she swatted him away without even turning her head to look at him.

“Don’t,” Darcy spat. “I’m fine.”

“You need a medic,” Steve murmured. There were agents watching them and doing shit jobs of pretending not to, so much for covert.

“Then I will find one.”

He’d almost forgotten how acidic she could be, how she could use the tone of her voice to cut a man down from a hundred paces. How it took him right back to the first day he’d seen her, dressing down a fresh lab tech in the hallway for jumping and gasping too often around Dr. Banner. Perfection cutting right through bullshit.

She grunted when her ankle twisted again as she maneuvered around a crater of cement, her arms spiraling in front of her as she teetered.

He had a moment of wondering if he would catch her, if he wanted to, and felt like the ugliest sort of bastard for the thought. His hands snatched at her hips and he pulled her back to his chest.

She thrashed, squirmed away from him, her elbow clipping his side.

“Let me go, lemme go!”

He held his hands up at his shoulders, and huffed, his stomach turning uncomfortably. “Darce, you were fall-”

She turned in step, hair flying, punching her fists at the air between them. “You are not my goddamn hero,” she hissed. Her left eyebrow was scraped, a trickle of blood pooling near her temple. He wanted to wrestle her back in to his grasp so he could take a closer look.

“Whu - I-”

“I don’t want you,” Darcy snapped. His froze, felt like he was back on ice, as she reared back blinking. “I don’t want - I don’t want _Captain_ _America_ ,” she said, quiet now. Quiet enough that he knew he was the only one listening. Over the sounds of wreckage being carted off and orders shouted and helicopters spinning above them he had the serum to thank for being able to hear at all.

She sighed, rolling her shoulders - her ‘I don’t want to fight, anymore’ tick that he’d triggered too often near the end, right before he pushed some more - and folded her arms across the chest. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. She never did when she was upset. They would be filled and red and their color cooled to and sharpened to strike at him.

“Look I…I’m glad they - the city, the team, the world, whatever - has…has the Captain. The world needs him, and I get that. I do. But I _can’t_ , Steve.” She swallowed and her chin wobbled and his hand twitched to pinch it between his fingers and hold her still so he could kiss her.

Gave that up, he reminded himself.

“I can’t need that guy because I can’t _see_ that guy. You’re not…You’re _Steve_ and I-” her voice cracked and her eyes flicked to his and he…

He looked away.

“You’ll always be Steve to me,” she said, clamping down on the tremors in her throat. “But you called this done and I can respect that but I can’t be one of them. I can’t be one of the people that you rescue. I can’t.” She shrugged, letting her right arm flop while she kept the left still. Was it injured too? She huffed. “Maybe that’s not fair.”

“It’s fair,” he said, or whispered, studying the fastenings on his gloves. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” she said, turning away again. “Don’t be sorry. Just mean what you said before, and leave me alone.”

He watched her, every shaky step, every flinch, every pause and breath and hesitation. And he knew that if she so much as stumbled or tripped he’d be there in a heartbeat to pick her up.


	4. Gold Standard - Bucky/Darcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> itsjanetsnakehole asked:  
> "things you said when you were drunk" for FitzSimmons (if you watch AoS, I can't remember) or Bucky/Darcy if you don't watch AoS or just would rather write that.
> 
> Friend, there is a decent chance you will punch me when you see where I ended this. Forgive me, I love you.
> 
> There’s a little bit of both pairings in here but mainly Bucky/Darcy cause yeah, I saw like 2 eps of AoS cause I’ve got farmer vision (an antenna) and it hates ABC. This is mainly crack anyways.

“Unnnnn, why did I do that? Why did I just eat an ass-ton of cheese puffs? What was the purpose of that decision?”

“You mean a shit-ton.”

“I mean an ass-ton. It’s bigger than a shit-ton. An ass is bigger than a shit.”

“Not all asses are created equal.”

“Neither are shits. It’s a floating currency.”

“Is there a gold standard?”

Darcy looked up from her cards to study the two scientists on her right. The two nearly naked scientists who were crouched around a now empty bowl dusted with fluorescent orange powder. Across the table from her Bucky Barnes was staring blank-eyed at the same two, head cocked lightly to the side. He’d been assigned scientist baby sitting duties for this weeks mission and Darcy had honestly been trying to mess with him when she suggested a game of strip poker to pass the time.

Even Tony hadn’t risen to that bait.

But Barnes?

His answer had been, “Vodka or whiskey?”

Vodka, obviously. Darcy actually _liked_ whiskey and she preferred saving it for _not_ super awkward situations with her coworkers and her…and Barnes.

Jane had opted out from the start and took three shots back to the couch to watch the proceedings or, more likely, the news channels for any emergencies.

Fitz and Simmons were in.

Well, for a little while at least. Enough hands of the game to get Darcy and Bucky out their shirts and the both them down to their underwear. Fitz was…surprisingly fit, actually. Definitely would have been Darcy’s type if it weren’t for the guy slouched across the table from her, legs bowed out in a lazy spread. And, what the fuck? People could have six - eight, maybe more - packs while slouching? Darcy thought that required, like, flexing or something. Jemma Simmons was a perfect little cream puff, but without the puff, and Darcy was maybe a little bit self-conscious about her not-flat-at-all stomach. She would have been more self-conscious if Barnes had been looking at her with anything other than eyes blacked out with desire for the better of the night, at least since she’d proposed the game.

“Ummmm…” Darcy squinted, running over the conversation again. “Maybe don’t make a definitive statement on that last question.”

Jemma smiled, eyes unfocused, and sucked at her index finger before ringing it around the inside of the bowl to pick up crumbs. Fitz sighed as he watched her.

“Poker,” Bucky said, turning back to Darcy. “We’re playing poker.”

“And your pants are on the line.”

“And so’s your skirt.”

Darcy crossed her legs and Barnes watched, soft smirk creating a dimple at the corner of mouth.

“Sooo…” she said, trying to holding the breaths that wanted to pant. With her chest? It would be inappropriate. At least in front of the others.

“Ladies first,” he said with a flick of an eyebrow.

“Maybe it would depend on what you ate,” Fitz mused.

“And on that note,” Darcy said, laying down her hand.

It wasn’t great to be honest, just a two pair - kings and sixes. Better than the hand she lost her shirt on - a pair of jacks - but worse than the rest of her game. But, hey, her legs were shaved and her panties were cute and she was ready to unzip her skirt. She’d even give Barnes a little bend and snap for the hell of it.

Except…

Except he had a high ace and…that was it. A high ace and a grin on his face.

He stood up from the table, hands going to the button at his waistband.

A little strangled noise came out of her throat and Barnes licked at his bottom lip, still grinning.

Oh. Fuck him. (She wanted to. She really, really wanted to.)

“Make it good,” she said.

Ohhh….shit. She just said that.

His eyes widened for a moment and then his gaze tightened on her face and he nodded, once, and flicked the button clean open. The zipper slid down and Darcy realized that Fitz and Simmons were still chattering on about asses and shits, and Jane was snoring on the couch and she was literally the only person in the room watching that zipper snick down one little metal tooth at a time.

There was a peek of pale skin and dark curls and Darcy swallowed. He was not wearing underwear. He’d called the terms himself, that they’d strip to underwear, knowing he wasn’t wearing anyway.

“Do a little turn,” she instructed. Her mouth was possessed, she decided, and she would feed it fire and brimstone if she had to as long as Bucky Barnes kept giving her those sex eyes.

He huffed out an abbreviated laugh and twisted in step, pants going slack over his hips and then sliding right down with a little tug of encouragement. Holy Mother Who Art In Heaven. Well, she was Jewish, but she was sure Mary agreed with her.

Dat.

Ass.

She could bounce a quarter off that ass. That ass could probably bounce a quarter off itself.

Also she really wanted her thighs to get acquainted with the angles of his hips.

He shifted, stepping one leg out his pants and she was distracted from the flex of his thighs by what was peeking out from between them. Heavy, dark, uncut and if she was not mistaken, semi-aroused. Barnes was a show-er.

Also, it was pretty adorable that Jemma was _still_ totally absorbed in her conversation with Fitz and was paying zero attention to the naked and _hung_ super soldier to her right.

“Am I supposed to turn back around, now?” Bucky asked, voice rumbling right into her gut and then a few inches south of that.

“No.” Darcy stood. “It’s time for you to march, soldier.”

Darcy strode forward, brushing past Bucky with a quick trace of her hand against his side.

“FRIDAY, watch the room,” Bucky growled.

Darcy could feel the chase at her spine, her feet skipping forward against her better sense, half-committed to running, half-hoping to be caught. Bucky had her by the waist as soon as they were in the hall, had her pressed to the wall just a few feet away from the common room. And her thighs absolutely _loved_ the angles of his hips.


	5. Pillow Talk - Bucky/Darcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from cinnaatheart (who is freaking amazing, her stories make me flail) - 12 things you said when you thought i was asleep, and Wintershock

She was feeling a little…faded. Like she wasn’t quite touching the objects around her, just floating inside of them. Maybe a few layers of her skin had just turned numb. There was a sheet over her legs and it was cool, and a mattress beneath her that was firm, and something in her wrist that was tight and sore and foreign. But all of that was translated through three panes of icy, blindingly bright, shatterproof glass in her head. A prism of distortion.

Someone was near. She was _almost_ sure. She might have been imagining the whispers of fabric shifting on her right, the occasional painstakingly slow release of a sigh. She _felt_ watched, or watched over; a little bit of heat on her cheeks from someone else’s stare. It was…reassuring. Yes. It felt safe.

“Buck.” The voice was watery, or her head was. Probably the latter. “Been looking for you.”

“Been here.”

She’d been right. Someone else was here, and close by. That was good, better not to be imagining things.

“Hill finally told me,” the first voice said. “S’good you were nearby. Doc says she’ll be alright.”

There was a grunt.

“You stayin’ here awhile?”

A rustle of fabric and huff of warm breath against her wrist that made her skin prickle and the rest of her body feel leaden by comparison.

“Mind if I settle in?”

There was no clear response. Darcy’s brain felt sluggish and solid, but the new comer was a fidgeter so she knew that time was passing based on his sighs and the creak of the chair he sat in.

“So what were ya doing near the labs, anyway?”

The man at her bedside huffed. Darcy would have rolled her eyes too at how hard squeaky chair guy was trying to sound casual. But her eyes felt like rocks. And she was starting to remember how she’d ended up in a hospital bed. A Hydra mole lab assistant who’d come for Jane and missed her heading off-world by a few weeks. A pair of crossed wires, figuratively and the literal ones that had timed the explosion. She’d gotten the nerds out safely, though.

“Quit fishin’ punk.” The grit and rasp of the voice closest her was barely familiar, could have belonged for a stranger if it weren’t a particular growl she had memorized. She like it’s depth, and rarity, and she liked the man it belonged to.

James Barnes was at her bedside.

And Captain America was hanging around too, so that was weird.

But maybe it was on par with her regularly scheduled tea time with the Hulk’s science!dork alter-ego or her pizza and hockey nights with Hawkeye and the thunder god.

Her head was starting to hurt and her feet were feeling solid. She thought that she might be able to open her eyes if she tried, or make her eyelids twitch, but this was an interesting conversation and her chest still felt like someone had tied a rock to it and dropped it in a river. She stayed limp.

“Bucky…” The captain, Steve, sighed. “Are you following her?”

“It ain’t like that.”

“Buck.”

“It ain’t - I’m not following her, I just…” His throat cleared and Darcy felt a brush of fingers against her wrist. “Seems nice. And I…I’ve been wanting to - to talk to her. Say something. Just haven’t…got up the nerve.”

There a bark of laughter at the other end of the room that was quickly choked off.

“Shuddup, punk!”

Darcy felt a little twitch at the tip of her lip.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Don’t wanna scare her. Don’t- don’t wanna find out I scare her.”

The room was quiet for a moment and Darcy debated in letting the farce go and trying to catch his hand in hers.

“From what Thor’s said, not much scares her,” Steve said. “Maybe…maybe you could shave though.”

Bucky huffed.

“‘Sides, I’ve seen her around the tower. She’ll probably do the talking for you. Just give her a chance to.”

“Why d’you think I’m sittin here like a dunce?”

“Cause she’s a belle and you like starin’ at her?”

“Get the hell out, Steve.”

Darcy waited through the following laughter and the sound of a door opening and shutting before opening her eyes.

It took a few tries. Her eyelids were sandpaper, her eyelashes were nailed down, her sight was cloudy.But a few blinks later and she was staring into a pair storm cloud eyes and they looked…scared.

“Hey,” she said, or tried to say. It was just a little croak and her lips forming the word.

He looked between her and the door, eyes wide.

“Thank you,” she mouthed.

His shoulders sagged and he fell forward, elbows braced on his knees, hair swinging in his face as he shook his head.

“Doesn’t need a thanks,” he said. But he stayed in his chair.


	6. Lion/Lamb - Loki/Darcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For dixiedolittle: And another things you said prompt: Darcy/Loki: Things you said through your teeth
> 
> Rated E!
> 
> Also, I admit this story was a little (a lot) inspired by that troll Darcyland had a bit ago (angelic angelicaaaaaa) who was pretty sure that Loki/Darcy was automatically abusive as a ship. So naturally, where did my head go? Dom/sub dynamics and spanking YAAAAAAAY. And all the consent your heart could desire. At one point I was calling this scene Troll Bait.
> 
> Major thanks to janetsnakehole for fixing this up all pretty like and the general hand holding I make her put up with.

“Does this have something to do with…with my past?” Loki asked. His forehead was knotted and his eyes had paled and were focusing on the fold of his hands. Even his shoulders were too straight, full of tension. “About the mistakes - the decisions I made-“

“Oh shit!” Darcy said, when she realized what he was asking. “Oh, god, Loki. No. No! Shit, I’m sorry, I did _not_ explain this well.”

“-Because I am making every effort to not be that man…” he stiffened, eyes skimming their laps, almost rising to meet her’s before he looked away again.

“I know that, Loki, I do,” Darcy soothed.

He was about one twist of the key too tightly wound, and probably about to bolt. He’d bolted before. Other times where Darcy had said the wrong thing at the wrong time and had forgotten that behind all the grandeur and dignity, Loki was actually pretty sensitive.

She wasn’t going to give him the chance.

She pulled his hands out his lap and settled herself there, wrapping her palms around his cheeks and lifting his face to force him to look back at her.

“This has _nothing_ to do with - with any of it. It’s just…something that I like. Or, I mean. I think I’ll like,” Darcy said shrugging.

Loki was still frowning, creases between eyebrows and lips pressed tight. She sighed and leaned her head against his cheek.

“I’ve never trusted someone enough to ask,” she said. “Anyways, I don’t _need_ this. I just…was curious.”

Her voice was getting small so she cleared her throat and tried to find the right words to wipe away the awkwardness.

“It’s a weird thing to ask, maybe.” Damnit, no, that was not what she wanted to say.

Loki sighed, leaning back into the pillows piled at Darcy’s headboard and taking her with him by his arms around her waist.

“It’s not a concept I’m unfamiliar with, Darcy,” he said, tone gentled.

“Yeah, yeah. Thousand year old alien. _Tons_ of kinky sex. You’ve _mentioned_.” Darcy grumbled, trying to muffle her words against the skin of his neck.

“I just wanted to be clear about your motivation,” he continued, but she could hear that smirk blooming in the lightness of the notes.

“My motivation was your hotness,” she said.

There. There was what she’d been trying to say.

His chest hummed with a laugh held in.

“Was there something particular you had in mind?” Loki asked, fingers skimming inside the waistband of her leggings.

“Umm…” She did. She had a damn list _in mind_ but…well, it was kind of hard to remember when his voice got all rich and sharp like dark chocolate and his hands were busy explaining to her skin that yes, she would be getting some. And soon.

“Because,” he continued, nudging her head onto his shoulder so he could nose around the outside of her ear and press a kiss just below her lobe, “I am having a _little_ idea. For starters.”

She blamed the last two words for why her throat had let out a brittle crying sound. She tried to save that sound for ‘R’ rated moments but Loki was pretty good at getting it out of her without so much as unlatching her bra. And Jane and Thor would be staying at the facility for a party tonight, which meant Loki would be making good on those two words. And Darcy would be sleeping in tomorrow because she probably wouldn’t be getting any shut eye tonight.

“I’m open to suggestions,” she said. Loki dropped another kiss, just an inch or two lower than the previous one, right against her pulse. “Actually, I’d rather be…surprised, I guess. I want to be…in - in your control.”

Those had been the words that had Loki freezing up just five minutes ago. Now he only hummed again, the sound thrumming against her spine, and nipped at her throat.

“You will be clear if you want me to stop?” he asked. His voice was husky but clipped, still holding back.

Darcy thought about the safe words, the stoplight colors, but that was one more thing to be explained and she was already pressing her thighs together trying to relieve some of the ache. Keep it simple then.

“I’ll say ‘stop’,” she agreed.

Strong fingers reached up to frame Darcy’s jaw and tilt her head back so he could land a soft, dry kiss at her mouth. Tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying fizzled out of her muscles as Loki brushed his lips over hers, back and forth, until he was no longer just skimming but sipping. His tongue ran across the seam of her lips and then he swallowed the sigh that was released.

She was so distracted by the gentleness of the kiss that she didn’t even notice the firm press of his fingers at her chin and waist until he was pressing her away from him. She tried to catch her breath without gasping but her head felt a little spinny - like the time she’d gone stargazing in the mountains with Jane and the thin mountain air left her feeling kind of buzzed and awed. There were spots of pink at Loki’s cheeks and his eyes were black with thin little rings of new growth green. She hadn’t mentioned yet his tendency to blush when aroused, and she was pretty sure he still didn’t know about it considering he liked to tease her for her own habit of flushing when he so much as glanced at her the right way.

“Stand up, darling.”

Darcy scooted away and up off the bed, trying to hide her shiver. She wasn’t usually one for pet nicknames but Loki was getting away with that one if her body’s response was any indication. Her fingers were tingly and numb, like they’d been asleep, and her knees felt rubbery.

“Turn around.” His voice was twining around in her head like smoke. Even without him touching her she was feeling like a marionette, limbs heavy and breaths shallow. She turned. He’d moved to sit at the edge of her mattress, his back straight and his stare pressing tenderly at her. “Undress for me.”

Darcy could feel the heat on her cheeks and looked down to her hands, partly to be sure they did the job correctly despite their slight tremors.

“No, Darcy,” he said, soft and with the lilt of teasing. “Keep looking at me.”

Eye contact was not her strong suit, but she took a breath - an embarrassingly ragged one - and met his eyes. He looked hungry, the tension in his jaws sharpening the angles of his face, but she could also see just the smallest glimpse of something wary. He didn’t _quite_ believe her offer yet.

She unzipped her hoodie and peeled it away. She didn’t try to be especially provocative, mostly because she was afraid of looking silly, but he seemed interested enough if the way his hand pressed against the crotch of his tenting pants was any indication. Her t-shirt came off with a little fumbling but she caught the way his tongue darted out at his lips and his eyes studied her hair falling around her shoulders. She hooked her thumbs in the waist of her leggings and hesitated.

“Slower?” She ignored the air in her voice.

He smiled, teeth glinting, and shook his head. “I’ve never been very patient.”

That’s good, she thought, pulling down the leggings with her underwear. She could hear him hiss as she bent and twisted to escape the fabric. He could see that she was wet already, although she didn’t think he’d be surprised since he hardly ever got her out of her clothes before she was ready for him. By the time she was shaking out her left foot Loki was leaning forward, fingers digging into his knees. Darcy unfixed her bra, shrugging out of it and then reached up to press and lift at her breasts, pulling away some of the ache from underwire… or anticipation. It was hard to tell in the moment.

“Hands down,” he said, almost growled.

Her hands fell, smacking lightly at her side. Under his gaze her whole body felt like it was at the edge of a bonfire, too exposed to cold air at her back and the heat of his attention at her front. Her limbs felt heavy and foreign. Loki took a deep breath, and Darcy had to fight off her smile at the catch in his throat. He sat back again, rolling his shoulders out of their predator’s crouch, and released the grip of his hands on his legs.

“Knees here,” he said, patting the mattress at his left, and then, “Hands here.” He patted at his right.

Darcy swayed in place before moving, having the picture in mind of bridging herself over his lap, but not being sure of where it would lead. She climbed onto the bed, Loki’s hands steadying and guiding her by her waist, smoothing over her belly and running down her spine. When she was in place he leaned forward, leaving a wet lick of a kiss in the middle of her back.

“You’re beautiful.”

She stayed quiet, or as quiet as she could while she was panting, grateful to be playing a part where she didn’t need to respond.

“Spread your legs a little,” he said. “Good. I want you to try not to move, can you do that?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Something inside of her stilled, found a calm center that was usually too distracted, too busy, too uncertain.

He lifted his right hand and wrapped it carefully around her neck, tilting her head up to face the top of her bed.

“Is this alright?” He wasn’t gripping at her throat, but she was sure that if she leaned forward he would have her firmly braced. His left hand was stroking at the back of her thighs, slipping between them and then away again before reaching where she was aching and needy.

“Yes,” she repeated. Her fingers were knotting into the sheet of her bed, a hangnail catching at a thread, and she had a premonition that the fabric would be torn before the end of the night.

The hand at her legs vanished and reappeared with a _‘Crack!_ ’ on her ass. She shrieked and jumped forward, her neck pressing into the palm of Loki’s hand, and the shout dulled to a muffled groan. Loki rubbed at the hot skin, circling in place and massaging away the sting of his slap. Darcy sagged and relaxed back against the soothing touch.

“And now?” he asked.

“Good,” she grunted, her voice tight with the thrill. Spanking _had_ been on her list, but maybe not right at the top. Restraint had too, although she’d been thinking something silky around her wrists, not Loki’s hand gentle and firm at her throat. She liked his interpretations, she decided.

His fingers drifted away from her ass and down between her legs, making her sigh out a high whimper as he gathered wetness and spread it across her lips and over her clit. His fingers swirled in quick, firm twists and Darcy gasped and clutched at her sheets, much closer to orgasming than she’d realized.

“Loki,” she warned, but his hand had already pulled away.

This time Darcy had a thought of what was coming, and braced herself for the slap, crying out and holding herself tightly in place. Loki petted at her neck and groped at her ass while she shook and tried to swallow a moan. Her breaths were loud in her own ears, her heartbeat rushing like rapids, but under her own noise she could hear Loki - the shuddering sighs, the grunts and growls he bottled between his lips. He was already looking at her when she turned her head to see him, mouth bitten pale and the red spots on his cheeks spreading across his nose.

“Is this alright?” She managed the question one word at time but he waited while she found her tongue.

He seemed to consider the question as he dipped his fingers inside her, making her squirm. “Hold still,” he huffed and she froze. “You are the most exquisitely lush display of pleasure the Norns have granted me that I can recall. I am very grateful for this moment.”

Darcy opened her mouth to tease him for his flowery speech but all she could make was a guttural cry as he plunged two fingers into her tight heat. Her breasts were hanging heavy, nipples just barely brushing at the twill of his pants, and everything from her waist down felt hot and lit from the inside out. She loved the feel of his fingers, long and slender and _strong_. Brushing against her skin, taking her hand in his, those foot rubs he surprised her with when no one else was around - all of it felt _amazing_. But this? This was her favorite. She wanted to rock into the strokes, but the gentle clamp of his hand around her throat reminded her not to move.

“Shit, shit, Loki,” she panted, slamming her eyes shut as he curled his index and middle fingers down, stroking at soft spot of nerves that made her buzz. “Loki, I can’t - I can’t! I’m too close!”

Loki laughed, thumb brushing at the corner of her jaw as he continued with the same taunting press and push and petting in her cunt. She was torn between begging him to finish her, and begging him to stop. She didn’t get a chance. At the first clutch of her muscles his fingers were gone in a jarring drag and then snapping down against her ass. She crumpled forward onto her elbows with a shout and then held her breath while her body warred with pleasure and how far it would succumb.

She sucked in breaths through her sheets as Loki slipped his hand out from under her neck and stroked it down her back, lifting strands of hair sticky with sweat off her face.

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

Out of the corner of her eye, from where she pressed her face into the cool fabric, she could see the black heat in his eyes, the furrow of concentration on his brow. She could feel him pressing stiffly into her stomach through his pants. She was wet and throbbing and there was sweat gathering at the base of her spine and neck. She was sure if Loki did so much as whistle she would come and she wanted him _touching_ her.

“Fingers,” she gritted out through clamped teeth, “Cock, mouth.”

Loki grinned, feral and bright and pleased, and then twisted them on the mattress until she was flat on her back with her legs spread by the press of his shoulders where he kneeled between them.

“Hands over your head,” he instructed, and Darcy clutched at the wooden slats of her headboard. Loki leaned forward and tongued a circle around her right nipple, one hand mimicking the pattern on her left breast while the other spiraled over her clit, delicate and tracing.

“Loki, please,” she keened and arched into the touch while it skated away.

“Give me a moment,” he said, smiling with wicked joy. “It will be quick and I want to savor this.”

Her thighs ached with the strain, toes dug into the mattress, nails gouging into the cheap Ikea wood. Loki nipped and suckled at her skin, across her chest and up to her collarbone, all while his hand stroked at the lips of her sex.

She wanted to beg, wanted to give up the game and take him by the ears and _make him_ get her off, wanted to let go and come from the faint little brushes he was tormenting her with. But she was too far gone to think straight. Everything was hot to the touch, every sound was ringing in her head, and flashes of color were blooming at the edge of her vision.

“I’ve got you, darling.”

His mouth was at her throat, peppering kisses, as his fingers twisted back inside her and his thumb rubbed at her clit, fierce and unforgivingly quick. Darcy gave a quick shout that was choked off into silence as light exploded behind her eyes and her body writhed with release. Her legs clamped around his waist as he continued, softening the caresses never ending as she rode out the hard waves of pleasure wracking her body.

She found her voice again - just whimpers - after her shudders and twists had abated and Loki was pulling his hand away from her overly sensitive flesh.

“Better than I had the imagination to predict,” Loki murmured in her ear.

“Take your fucking clothes off, already,” Darcy groaned, sucking in air and flexing her stiff hands off the slats.

“And here I thought to offer you a reprieve,” Loki said, shifting back and lifting wet fingers up to his lips. She watched him take a small considering taste, and then blushed as his smile bloomed.

“Use magic,” she said, before he could unbutton his shirt by hand.

One fine, aristocratic, eyebrow raised as he stared down at her. “Did you not request that _I_ be in control this evening?”

Darcy was pretty sure that if she asked to turn the tables now, Loki would agree without so much as a gesture of argument. But, hey, he was doing pretty well so far.

“Right,” she said. “Sorry.”

Loki fell on her with a hungry mouth, licking across the back of her teeth, biting at her lips and soothing at them with his own. His skin was cool against hers, her limbs enveloping his form. There wasn’t so much as a thread separating them as he guided himself inside of her, their groans echoing together in the kiss.

“Next time,” he promised, snapping a soft bite at her jaw.

His hips snapped and ground against her, stirring up the barely faded ripples of sensation she’d just fallen from.

She’d start planning her list now.

She moaned as Loki shifted, hitting inside of her perfectly, and his tongue lapped at her pulse.

Later.

She’d plan later.


	7. Spider's Web - Clint/Darcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bulmavegotaku asked:  
> Can you do Clint/Darcy #20? Things you said that I wasn't meant to hear? Please!
> 
> This ran a little wild once it got started and it’s Natasha & Darcy heavy but it’s the closest I’ve gotten to writing a Clint that I’m happy with. (He is so precious to me and I freaking love Clint/Darcy so I sometimes get intimidated.) Hope you like it!
> 
> Rated M for foul language.

“I think she’d be good for you,” Natasha said.

“Sure she would. Pro’lly a lot better for me than I’d be for her,” Clint answered.

Darcy paused in her reading. This was the tenor of a conversation that was private but…they had to have known she was around the corner from them. They were…well, they were Natasha and Clint. Super spies. They didn’t walk into a room without already knowing where everything and everyone was inside of it.

“I don’t agree with that,” Natasha said, clean and simple.

“You’re biased. Ask Jane and Thor what they think - no, hey, that was joke. Don’t ask them. I don’t want to get, you know, hammered. Or shot into space.”

“They are not her parents. And she’s a grown woman.”

“Oh yeah? Did you feel like a grown woman at twenty-six?”

Darcy was twenty-six. And that was the first moment that she realized that maybe, no, they didn’t realize she was around the corner. She froze in place, held her breath so she didn’t so much as ruffle the pages of the paperback fisted in her now sweating hand.

“Of course I did,” Natasha answered. “I’d killed-”

“Okay, stop, we agreed-”

“-Very significant people by her age.”

Clint huffed.

“All I’m asking,” Natasha continued, “is that you not be the one to tell her that her boyfriend left to join Hydra.”

Darcy worked very hard at not shouting at that moment. Harder than she’d worked at learning to knit. Harder than she worked at explaining to her parents that she was giving up a job offer in D.C. to follow Jane to Norway and then England and then New York. Harder than she worked on her fucking dissertation.

“I never said I was volunteering,” Clint said, probably covering the sound of her teeth grinding together and her rapid breaths through her nose.

“I know you,” Natasha said. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut if I sewed it together.”

“That’s because I know how to sign.”

“ _Clint._ ”

“She’s survived worse than a crappy guy turning out to be crappier than she expected. She’s strong and she’s a good person,” Clint was running out of air and also maybe steam on that subject considering Natasha’s silence. Darcy was blushing. “Someone has to tell her, don’t they?”

Yeah! Darcy wanted to shout. Fucking, didn’t they?

“Yes. But I want it to be Steve.”

Clint spluttered. “What? Why?”

“It will make him uncomfortable.”

There was a long silence where Darcy forced herself not to scream.

Ian. Ian had gone to Hydra. Her fucking boyfriend fucking left her, and that had been enough. Enough for two weeks of crying, followed by two months of licking her wounds clean and keeping her head down. And now? Now everything was cracking back open again because that squirmy, adorable, hapless little piece of shit was a Fucking Bad Guy in capital letters.

“You want me to keep my mouth shut so that you can watch Steve squirm while he tells Darcy that her ex sold us - sold _her_ \- out to a pack of psychopathic neo-nazi nutzos?”

“Better him than you,” Natasha said, cold and clipped. “Don’t shoot the messenger, yadda, yadda.”

“Nat- I… This is a new… You’re going to need to give me a little time and then you’re going to explain to me where the hell your head is at.”

There was shuffling and then sound of retreating footsteps. Darcy was on the couch, still gripping at her book, mouth hanging open as if half ready to scream. And Natasha came around the corner finally, sitting at the far edge of the couch and looking not the least bit surprised to see her. Darcy studied the other woman who seemed to be listening for something, not even glancing at her. She thought about kicking out at the redhead but figured that would end with her ankle in a cast.

Seeming satisfied, Natasha turned and leveled Darcy with a piercing look. Darcy swallowed and shrank back, waiting for the blow.

“We got the intel about Boothby this morning,” Natasha said. “The table was split on whether or not you should know at all but Clint was the final vote in favor of telling you. I apologize for the delivery.”

Darcy blinked.

“I voted against, for the record.”

“Am I supposed to thank you?” She was more acidic than she liked. No. That was a lie, she was a lot less acidic than she would have liked but more than she was comfortable being around the Black Widow.

“Of course not,” Natasha said. “I _will_ make sure you have time to process on your own before Hill wants her interview, however.”

Interview. Interrogation. Because her ex had gone to Hydra and now they’d want to know what she knew about Ian and what Ian knew about them that he wasn’t supposed to.

“Ah,” she said.

“In return I would appreciate if - not soon, but sometime in the future if he takes his head out of his ass - you gave Clint a chance. You do find him attractive right?”

“Duh.” Darcy dropped her book and slapped her hand over mouth. This was stress. This was maybe some kind of spy-art style coercion or pumping of information or… Or it just wasn’t that big of a deal to find an Avenger hot, really. Pretty much everyone did. But. But she was _Dealing_ with shit right now.

“Good. He will get his head out of his ass, he always does. Eventually. Help him along if you want.”

“What the hell is-” Darcy swallowed the next words. There were limits to Natasha’s tolerance probably, even if she could plead insanity of the moment. “-Is all of this? Did he know I was in here?”

“No, he would never have spoken. I led him here. And his hearing aids were acting up.”

That she had orchestrated that too was implied. And for a moment Darcy understood that this was Natasha helping a friend, trying to help her too in a terrible way. Giving her a moment of privacy to absorb Ian’s betrayal. Clearing a path for Clint to make a good impression on a girl he liked.

“Why go to the trouble?” she asked.

“Please, trouble involves bandages.”

“No, but, why…why help him with…me? Do I - do you like me?” If she had made any impression at all, Darcy didn’t know how it could have good enough to win over Natasha Fucking Romanoff.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed and her shoulders tensed and why of all the things Darcy had said or almost said was this the one that put her on edge?

“He does,” Natasha answere. “And generally he has terrible taste. I don’t-” Natasha drew a deep breath and frowned, looking away. She squared her shoulders and looked back at Darcy. “Yes. I do like you. You’re smart, and brave, and you don’t put up with bullshit.”

Generally, this was the kind of announcement that led to Darcy hugging the crap out of someone.

“Cool,” she said instead.

Natasha smirked and rolled her eyes. “Just deal with this news for now. Hill wants to tell you tomorrow.”

“Right,” Darcy said, her stomach turning over at the reminder. “Right. Should I…act surprised?”

Natasha shrugged, interest waned. “Up to you. But if it is Steve…do you think you could cry a little?”

Darcy bottled up nervous laughter. Laughter that would probably have turned into tears if she let it out. But she did not want to see how the Black Widow dealt with a crying woman.

“I- yeah, I probably could,” Darcy said, trying to hold back the waver in her voice.

There was a flicker of sympathy on Natasha’s face but she only nodded and rose, leaving Darcy to a booming silence and spinning thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to direct prompts to queenspuppetwriting at tumblr!


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